


non-negligible collision

by andchaos



Category: A.P. Bio (TV), It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Post-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 03:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15306057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: Mac meets a nice guy who's on a business trip and ends up with a boyfriend for the summer.





	non-negligible collision

The Rainbow was packed that night, which wasn’t too surprising for a Saturday night. Ever since Pride Month had started, the club was bringing in even more people than usual, and it tended to have a decent amount of clientele every night of the week. Things would go back to normal after June was done, but for now Mac was trying to get used to the scene.

He pushed his way to the bar.

“Hey Mac,” the guy behind the counter said. “You want a whiskey on ice?”

It was his usual.

“Thanks, Jeremy,” Mac said.

He idly watched those sparkling booty shorts walk to the other end of the bar to fill up a glass, but he wasn’t really interested in Jeremy. He was pretty, and nice, but he was too skinny and small for Mac’s taste. He opened up a tab and leaned back on the counter with his drink, scanning the club for someone good to flex his talents on for the night. This sober, he wouldn’t be that good at it yet – most of Mac’s bangs came from just getting shitfaced and seeing who wanted to grind. That way, it didn’t require a whole lot of talking. Mac looked for someone he could ease into a small conversation with to flex his skills while he got drunk enough to catch a bigger fish.

As expected, it was a slow night for flirting – everyone was a bit more interested in making out or getting felt up in the bathroom. The few guys that Mac actually felt like approaching all either were taken or blew him off completely. The men in these clubs didn’t seem to be any nicer than he and his friends were at Paddy’s, usually just walking away when they got bored, without even giving any kind of a warning.

Irritated, Mac slammed his third empty whiskey glass down on the counter and slid into a barstool. His head hung down between his hands, which were floating in an orbit around his hair, aching to pull on it except he didn’t want to mess up the careful gelling he’d done. He didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, so he had to maintain the level of hotness he had managed to achieve before coming out, before he got messy with sweat and dancing and drinking too much.

Mac didn’t have anywhere to go, anyway, except home to his empty apartment or back to the bar, neither of which were particularly appealing options, especially when he was covered in glitter like usual. Charlie, Dee, and Frank never _said_ anything, but they always glanced at each other when he walked in. Besides, he felt like getting past hellos with a guy tonight.

“Rough night, huh?”

Mac looked around for who was talking, until he found a man about his age, sitting to his left and smirking at him. He was sipping a glass filled with some dark liquid sprinkled with mint leaves.

“Not that bad,” said Mac, shrugging one shoulder. “Just been striking out with just about everyone here.”

“Well, you haven’t tried hitting on me yet,” the man said. He threw Mac another winning grin.

Mac turned to look at him more fully, eyeing him up and down. He was thin but not exactly lanky, wearing a blue button-up undone over a white t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. It was a little more understated of an outfit than Mac would have gone for – more understated than he _had_ gone for, in a loose crop top he’d cut up from an old The Killers t-shirt and jeans he’d cut off into shorts and then cuffed so that they were just a little too short to be heterosexual. This dude wasn’t as beefy as the men Mac liked either, but he was tall and good-looking. Mac’s eyes swept over his hard arms, his stubble, and up to his pretty blue eyes.

“I’m Jack,” the guy said. “Jack Griffin. What are you drinking?”

“Mac,” he returned. “Whiskey on the rocks. You?”

“Mint julep,” he said. “Bartender, can you —”

He was immediately ignored in favor of a young lesbian couple waving from the other side of the bar. Jack looked offended. Mac leaned in close and said, “Jeremy favors people who are nice to him. And he likes it when you learn his name.”

“I just got into town,” Jack said indignantly. “How am I supposed to know his name? Besides, I don’t want to pretend to be nice to some guy slinging me drinks. I don’t even know him.”

Mac shrugged. “I don’t want to either, but do you want to drink or not? Hey, Jeremy!”

Jeremy flashed him his index finger, indicating he would be over as soon as he got done serving the women. Mac watched Jack while they waited, studied the curve of his cheek and how it plunged into the sharp line of his jaw, watched his throat where it was pink from how hot it was in the room. Jack didn’t look at Mac at all except to glance over now and again; instead, he was studying the rest of the room and watching the other people dancing. Jeremy swiped the lesbians’ credit cards, then wiped his hands down on the rag slung over his shoulder and ambled back over to Mac.

“Hey Mac,” he said. His eyes flicked to Jack, sitting beside him with a steely look on his face. “You want a refill?”

“Yeah,” said Mac. “And another drink for my friend here, too.”

“Coming right up.”

He slipped away. Mac turned back to Jack.

“You really know how to work this place,” Jack said, eyebrows rising toward his hairline. “I’m…reluctant to admit I’m impressed.”

“You get used to it,” said Mac. Their drinks came back, filled up to the brim. Mac nodded. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

“Sure thing,” he said. His eyes flickered over to Jack for a moment before they slid away again, and he disappeared to deal with other customers.

Jack sipped on his mint julep and arched his eyebrows at Mac over the rim of the glass.

“You know that Jeremy guy has a thing for you, right?” he asked. His voice was smooth, but his eyes were boring holes into Mac’s own.

Mac glanced over at Jeremy for just a second before he turned back to Jack.

“So what?”

“So, he’s a much easier lay than trying to hit on guys who won’t give you the time of day.” As he spoke, the hand not holding his glass aloft slid over Mac’s knee and rested partway up his thigh. Mac swallowed. “And he’s pretty. Don’t you like pretty guys, Mac?”

“Yeah. Maybe I just don’t care about getting laid,” Mac said thickly. He shook his head. “Wait. I mean, I do. I just…want it to be with someone I’m actually interested in. Potentially. I mean, I guess.”

Jack smiled – that must have been the right answer. It was hard to tell when Mac wasn’t totally sure what game they were playing.

“Are you _potentially interested_ in me?” Jack asked.

Mac’s eyes flicked down to his mouth. To his pink, pink lips. Talk about a pretty guy. He swayed into Jack’s space.

“Maybe,” he breathed. “I don’t really know you, man.”

Jack’s hand slid further up Mac’s thigh until it curled around the curve of his hip, his fingers spreading out past the top of Mac’s jeans so they were brushing electricity across the bare skin of his waist. He was leaning so far out of his own stool that he might topple over; Mac grabbed his arm to steady him, just in case.

“Okay,” said Jack. “Just checking.”

He tilted his head closer until Mac was practically swallowing his air. Mac was frozen in his seat. Then the hand not wrapped around Mac’s hip dropped the glass of liquor onto the bar and curled around the side of Mac’s neck, and Mac closed his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him.

It didn’t last long – just a slow moving of their lips together for a suspended few moments, and then, just as it was deepening nearly enough for Mac to consider slipping him tongue, Jack released him and pulled away.

Mac opened his eyes slowly. Jack was smiling at him again.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jack said, promptly sliding back into his seat and picking his glass back up.

Mac fumbled for a moment, trying to find his footing and reset back to conversation mode. He sipped at his whiskey while he cast around for something interesting to say.

What he settled on, lamely, was, “I run a bar.”

Jack looked at him quizzically. “Then what are you doing here?”

Mac shrugged. He drank more whiskey.

“It’s not a gay bar. Well, technically,” he said. When Jack’s confusion didn’t clear up, he added, “I mean, I can’t control it if we seem to attract a lot of gay twenty-somethings. It’s not our fault. They always leave after they realize what kind of place we’re running, though. Our only regulars are…well, honestly, they’re street trash.”

Jack drank more of his bourbon and didn’t say anything. Mac got the distinct feeling that he was either boring him or that Jack just really didn’t find him impressive at all.

“What do you do?” Mac asked quickly.

“What do I do, or what do I really want to be doing?” Jack asked.

“Uh. Both, I guess.”

A gentle smile eased its way back onto his face, and Mac felt a little less concerned that he was going to bolt. Jack said, “I teach A.P. Bio at a school in Toledo. But it’s just temporary while I figure out how to get the job that got snatched from me from this absolute fucking…Well, never mind. The point is, I _should_ be teaching philosophy at Harvard.”

“Wow,” said Mac. “So what the fuck are you doing slumming it here?”

Jack smiled over the rim of his glass. The lights on the ceiling played pretty patterns on his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw and sharp cheekbones. Mac grinned back.

“Business trip,” he said vaguely.

Mac raised his eyebrows. “Pretty lenient business trip if you can spend your nights at this place.”

Jack sipped more of his drink. “I traveled _all_ the way to Philly. Why wouldn’t I have some fun while I’m out here? God knows it’s a better scene than fucking Ohio. Plus it’s not fucking Ohio.”

Mac grinned. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never been.”

“God, I wish I could say the same thing.”

“So you’re here, huh?” Mac asked. “What, there aren’t any guys good enough for you in Toledo?”

Jack tipped his head to the side. His forehead smoothed out, and he was smirking again.

“There are no good women there,” he said, “and there aren’t any gay guys at all.”

“Then the big city must be paradise.”

Jack tapped his fingers against his mouth. His gaze, very slowly and obviously, slid down Mac’s face, over his chest, down to his lap, and then raked the same path back up. He was eying Mac again the way Mac had looked at him before – not just to size him up, but because he was deriving genuine pleasure from just the sight of him. Goosebumps erupted across Mac’s back. Jack drew his lip into his mouth and bit down.

“I’m starting to think it might be,” he said lowly. Mac’s mouth felt dry. “Do you want to dance, Mac?”

Mac slid off his seat. Jack downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, put the glass down on the counter, and ran his hand down Mac’s arm until he found his palm, and he slipped his fingers through Mac’s. Mac let himself be dragged out to the dance floor, and he let Jack put his arms around his neck, and he let him pull him close until he forgot everything else except for the music and the warm body pressed against his own.

 

Mac got pressed up against his kitchen sink. He bent Jack over on the couch. They held each other against the shower wall and pinned each other to the living room floor and got tangled up in the only bed in the apartment.

Jack had stuck around, somehow, after the first morning when they woke up together in Mac’s bed, and Mac had expected him to make some kind of half-assed excuse and go but instead he’d only asked if Mac wanted to take him to a nice restaurant that night and give him a real, proper tour of the city. He didn’t seem to mind that Mac’s life was messy and he usually avoided mess at all costs, or that Mac hadn’t gone to college, or that they spent most of their nights downing rum together.

Mac kissed him goodbye after breakfast. He kissed him hello before date night. He kissed him on his lunch break when Jack stopped by the bar, and across the front seat of Jack’s car on the way back from Guigino’s, and when they both got buzzed in Jack’s hotel room and spent all night ignoring the pay per view they ordered.

June passed, the Rainbow died back down to normal, and Jack’s business trip seemed to extend endlessly into the rest of the summer. Mac knew he had to be back in Toledo by the time school started in September but he didn’t care. That was ages away. That was across two whole months that, from the early side of July, might as well have been years into the unknowable future.

 

Dee was on the phone behind the bar when Mac came in. He threw her a quick hello and uncapped a beer with his teeth, which he was just getting around to drinking when Dee snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Hey, dillweed,” she said when Mac looked up. “Have you checked your Facebook recently?”

Mac blinked at her. “You mean since 2012? Who are you on the phone with, anyway?”

“Dennis,” she said, turning away from him. “He’s pissed off.”

Mac’s forehead creased. He’d just talked to Dennis two days ago, and he had seemed fine. Tense and irritable, sure, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Why –”

“Shhh,” said Dee, waving him down. “I’m on the phone, asshole.”

Mac flipped her off and retreated with his beer to an empty corner of the bar. His curiosity was peaked now, though, and he dug his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He ignored the pending text from Jack, something about seeing each other for lunch, and took a big swig of his beer as he opened up his Facebook.

There were only a few notifications actually worth looking at – the ones about birthdays he’d missed and statuses that had updated in his absence, those he happily ignored. The only one that really caught his eye was that he had been tagged in two photos at eight p.m. last night.

He had been with Jack around eight last night. They had had dinner on a boat, because Jack had money which was basically the same thing as having connections. Jack got them a fancy dinner, and then they had walked along the pier after and held hands and Jack tried to talk about the constellations but Mac kept getting bored and trying to grope him. Then they would laugh and start all over again.

He clicked on the first picture. It was a simple photo – they had been arguing about it. Mac didn’t really know anyone who took photos just because, so he didn’t know the etiquette around taking pictures with someone you were steadily dating. Jack had been a little irritated about it, asking if Mac didn’t want him splashed across his social media or something, and Mac had explained that he didn’t really _have_ much social media to be spreading their pictures around on, anyway.

Jack had seemed okay with that answer. He’d just insisted that Mac at least take a photo with him to put on _his_ Facebook, and Mac had acquiesced.

The first photo was simple, even cute. Just the two of them leaning against the railing of the pier and kissing lightly, nothing risqué because Jack was worried about his job and being professional. The water was nice and shiny under the rising moon behind them, and Jack was smiling into the kiss.

Mac couldn’t see what would piss off Dennis about that one, so he swiped to the second picture instead.

This one was even less objectionable than the first one. They were in the same exact spot; the two photos had been taken only minutes apart. In this one, they were leaning with their heads tilted together, smiling at the camera. It was a cheesy, stupid couple’s photo, but it was cute, in Mac’s opinion anyway – Dennis seemed to have taken offense to something, although really, Mac couldn’t for the life of him imagine what it might be unless Dennis was seriously just uncomfortable that Mac was in a picture where he was openly kissing another man. Mac couldn’t quite imagine him thinking that kind of thing, though.

“Hey, Mac,” called Dee from across the room. Mac looked up, his phone falling face-down into his lap. “Gear up, Dennis is about to call you and he’s in a motherfucking bitch of a mood.”

“Why?”

Dee just shrugged.

“But didn’t you just –”

Dee had already turned away and was preoccupied with something else. It didn’t matter; just as Mac picked up his phone again, the screen lit up, displaying Dennis’s name and the contact picture Mac had taken of him passed out drunk and half-hanging off the couch one night. His face was squished against their living room floor and he was snoring away, although you couldn’t tell that part just from looking at the picture.

“Heyo,” said Mac, picking up the call. “What’s up, dude?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dennis’s voice was hard and furious.

Mac leaned back in the booth. “Uh, about the photos? Dee mentioned something about that.”

“Yes, about the photos! Are you fucking with me?”

Mac tipped more beer back while he dawdled with answering. In his opinion, Dennis was either overreacting or just being close-minded, and Mac was happy to let him fester in his discomfort for few extra seconds either way.

“What about them?” he said at last. “I think they’re awesome.”

“Who… _who_ is that guy?” Dennis spat.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Mac said. His fingers tightened around the bottle, but he kept his voice neutral. “His name is Jack and he’s totally awesome, dude. You would love him. Plus, he’s like, the hottest guy I’ve ever banged.”

“Are you joking?” Dennis sounded like he was being strangled. Mac wondered if he should call 911 just to be safe. “Are you…You’re just doing this to fuck with me, right? There’s no way you don’t see it.”

“See _what_?”

Dennis choked on his words some more. Mac had drained half of the beer already.

“That guy…that _Jack_ …He looks exactly like me!”

Mac blinked. That wasn’t exactly what he had expected Dennis’s big hang-up about the whole thing to be. After a second, he burst out into laughter.

“Are you serious?” Mac said. “Is that what’s pissing you off? Bro, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Jack looks literally nothing like you.”

“You’re fucking blind, Mac! _And_ you’re dating me. Is that what this is about? You want to date me?”

Mac knew he only said that to try and get a rise out of him. Maybe it would have even worked if Dennis didn’t still sound like every word he uttered was triggering a severe migraine.

“I’m not dating you, asshole, you live halfway across the fucking country. _I’m_ dating a hot guy with a tight body and a jawline that could slice you in _half_. _And_ he looks damn good with a beard, so.”

Dennis was silent for a long moment. He seemed to have stopped being choked to death by his own words now, because his voice was much colder when he said, “Are you suggesting that I _don’t_ have all those things?”

Mac laughed. “I’m not saying you’re not, like, an eight or a nine. But seriously, man, this guy is like, an _eleven_. And he’s nothing like you either, not even when he talks. He actually, like, knows stuff about things. I mean, I don’t really understand what he’s saying when he talks about philosophy and stuff, but he’s supposed to be some kind of Harvard professor on the subject, so I guess he knows what he’s talking about. He’s kind of liberal about evolution and stuff, but he’ll come around. Probably.”

“What is the matter with you people?” Dennis said, his voice climbing several octaves in the span of a few syllables. Mac frowned, because Dennis definitely wasn’t even listening to him. “Are all of you blind, or are you just really, really stupid?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dee, Charlie, _and_ Frank all said the same thing. None of you think he bears even a passing resemblance to me? Seriously? That guy is like my _twin_.”

“Um, okay, Dennis. Whatever you say.” Mac snorted. “I mean, whatever you need to believe.”

“I am _not_ –”

Mac stopped listening. The door to the bar had opened, and Mac looked up just as Jack strolled through it. Jack spotted him in the booth and made a beeline over to him.

“I brought us salads,” he said, holding up the to-go bag he had in his hand. “I know you said you don’t like them, but I swear this one is actually good. Just try it, and if you hate it, you can have the burger that I brought for Dee.” He added this last part lowly, so that Dee wouldn’t hear him from the other side of the room. He was still smiling when his gaze resettled on Mac. “Who’s on the phone?”

“Dennis,” said Mac, “but he’s kind of taking awhile to make a good point.”

“I can hear you,” Dennis said.

“I wasn’t covering the mouthpiece,” Mac shot back. “Anyway, I have to go.”

“Is that him?” Dennis demanded. “I want to talk to him. Let’s see just _exactly_ who this guy –”

Mac hung up and put his phone down on the table. He reached out to squeeze Jack’s hand where it was resting halfway across the table, and he smiled over at him. Jack extricated himself so that he could unwrap their lunches, and he pushed a bowl of leafy greens across toward Mac.

“Salads?” he said doubtfully, wrinkling his nose. “You’re really going to make me try it? I really don’t like anything that, uh, was never alive.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“One bite,” he coaxed.

Mac sighed. “Fine. But I can guarantee I’m not going to like it.”

He caught up a plastic fork and stabbed it through a few different things in the bowl, just so he could say that he had tried everything. He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. Jack leaned forward over the table, eager.

Mac swallowed. He deadpanned, “That tastes like piss, man.”

Jack sighed. He muttered about Mac having a crude and unrefined pallet while Mac opened up Dee’s burger and started to demolish it as fast as he could.

 

August dawned. Jack moved in to Mac’s place in all but name. They slept tangled in the sheets together, no clothes necessary. Jack was usually already cooking breakfast by the time Mac woke up, and they traded sleepy kisses over their morning coffees and then ate breakfast while Jack read the news and Mac scrolled through whatever conversations he had missed in the group chat. They strolled around in little to no clothes because it was too hot to get dressed, and they spent a lot of weekends at the Rainbow.

Mac tried to make him wear something more stereotypically gay when they went out clubbing. Jack tried to convince Mac to keep the sleeves on some of his t-shirts. They got angry and fought and fucked under a cold shower to make up for it.

August waned.

 

Jack’s plane was scheduled for six a.m. At three that same morning, they were huddled up under Mac’s covers, sometimes trading soft kisses but usually not talking much, mostly just lying there and looking at each other.

Jack’s fingers drummed a rhythmless tattoo against Mac’s side. They were sharing a pillow, giving Mac a beautifully close-up view of his blue eyes and the sharp cut of his features. Mac’s gaze dragged down his cheek.

“You could stay until the thirty-first,” Mac whispered, not for the first time that night.

Jack’s thumb was rubbing a slow circle between two of Mac’s ribs. It felt nice. Soothing.

“School starts September first,” said Jack. He leaned in until their faces were touching, his nose skimming against Mac’s. Mac inched his chin in until their mouths were almost on each other. When Jack talked, their lips brushed. “I have to be back at my mother’s tomorrow so that I’ll have a few days to settle in again and get things set up in my classroom.”

Mac slung his arm around Jack’s waist. His hand settled against the small of Jack’s back and pressed him closer to him on the mattress. Jack chuckled, settling their bodies together comfortably. He ran his fingers through Mac’s hair, soft and messy from air-drying after their shower earlier.

“But I’m here,” Mac said.

He tilted their mouths together and kissed him, softly. Jack’s lips parted between Mac’s, and he sucked softly on Mac’s upper lip. Mac squeezed their bodies tighter against each other, edging one of his knees in between both of Jack’s. Jack tilted his head to get a better angle for the kiss, his tongue pressing gently against Mac’s. Mac moaned, licking further into his mouth. He moved to push Jack down onto his back and slide over him, but Jack pushed him back by the chest before he could do it.

“Mac,” he groaned. Mac frowned; it sounded more like a complaint than an indication that he should keep going.

Mac frowned at him. “Jack…”

“I’m not done packing yet,” he said. Still, he didn’t make any move to untangle himself from Mac’s arms.

“You started three days ago.”

Jack laughed. The back of his hand brushed Mac’s cheek, and Mac swayed into the touch.

“You keep interrupting me,” Jack said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Remember what happened when I tried to pack my ties?”

Mac grinned. He ducked down to hide his face in Jack’s neck. Jack’s hands rubbed up and down Mac’s bare back in a soothing massage.

“They looked better wrapped around your wrists, anyway,” he mumbled.

“Probably,” Jack said. Mac could hear the smile in his voice.

Mac leaned up to kiss him again. This time it was harder, more desperate than soft. Jack cradled Mac’s face in his hands and Mac crawled over him until he could press their foreheads together each time they pulled back to breathe. He kept him pinned against the bed as their tongues met forcefully, unhappily; Jack raked scratches down Mac’s back hard enough to mark the skin for a good few days. Mac dug his blunt nails against Jack’s side and tried to convince him not to go by dragging soft moans out of him with the presses of their lips and the slow, steady grinding of their hips. If he was happy, he wouldn’t have to leave.

But then, that wasn’t always true.

Mac closed his eyes and leaned their foreheads together again as their breathing slowed down and evened out. Neither said anything for a long moment. The windows were open, letting in a cooling breeze, and the only sounds in the room were their inharmonious breathing and the noise of the city nightlife drifting up to them from the streets below. Mac opened his eyes. Jack was already looking at him.

“Do you have to go _now_?” Mac asked, his voice low.

Jack smiled sadly. He leaned up to press one more kiss to Mac’s mouth.

“I’m afraid I do, summer boy.”

 

The airport was always crowded, even or maybe especially at six in the morning at the end of the summer. Mac went with him so that he could take the rental car back to the lot afterwards, because that way Jack could get dropped off right at the entrance and he wouldn’t have to deal with the parking lot and the shuttle bus and he would had more time to get through TSA.

They pulled up to the curb, and Jack put it in park. They both got out to haul Jack’s bags out of the back of the car and switch seats so Mac could drive it back to the lot and then take a bus home.

They met on the sidewalk. It wasn’t really awkwardness that hung in the air, mostly something bittersweet. Mac looked at him for a long moment.

Jack was the first to step forward, to pull Mac into his arms. Mac kissed him fiercely.

“Have a good flight,” he said when they stepped away. “And a good, um. Life, I guess.”

Jack smiled at him. “You never know,” he said, “where I’ll be next year.”

“I’ll probably still be here,” said Mac, finally acquiescing to a smile.

“I know.”

There was a hesitation. Then all at once, Jack stepped forward and hugged him, tightly. Mac stood there frozen, unsure what he was really meant to do, very uncomfortable with goodbyes. Before he could figure out if he should hug him back or not, it was too late and Jack had pulled away. He picked up his bags, and they shared a last smile.

Mac slid into the driver’s seat of the rental car. He watched Jack disappear into the airport, and he didn’t look back at all. Mac really only stayed idling there in case Jack forgot something in the backseat or something.

And then he was gone. Only once Jack’s back had mixed in with the crowd did Mac finally pull the car into drive and slide back out onto the road.

**Author's Note:**

> sapiosexual/morosexual couple rights!
> 
> i'm [lesbianfreyja](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/175930416875) on tumblr xo


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